


Just a Little Fun at the French Ministry Ball

by Femslash_writer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Banter, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Exhibitionism, F/F, Licking Over Underwear, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femslash_writer/pseuds/Femslash_writer
Summary: Fleur runs into an old friend at the French Ministry Ball, and they decide to relive old times. Omega/Omega
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 5
Kudos: 140
Collections: The First Annual Femslash Kink Exchange 2020





	Just a Little Fun at the French Ministry Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



Fleur chuckled as yet another incompetent sycophant led the Golden Girl out onto the dance floor. How had Hermione expected to remain anonymous at the French Ministry Ball in a lion mask, which practically screamed Gryffindor pride, was beyond the Veela’s comprehension. Of course, everyone recognized the war hero immediately; they were practically tripping over themselves to get a word in with her. 

The poor omega was simply doing her best to not get her toes stepped on. It was all Fleur could do not to laugh. She could practically smell the distressed pheromones from across the room, but she doubted anyone else would notice. She was keyed into the girl’s scent, having spent time with her both during the Triwizard Tournament and during her brief bout of insanity as Bill’s wife. She did not know how she had expected that to work. 

The French omega simply never found the love she was looking for in the man she still considered her best friend. There were no hard feelings. It was only his family -especially Mrs. Weasley- that had put up a stink. Both Hermione and Harry had been kind to her though, checking on her daily.

Fleur often thought of the young omega who had once let her share her bed while she was moving out of Shell Cottage. The girl had been a bright light in dark circumstances. Even with that dreadful girl, Pansy Parkinson, that Hermione had been dating at the time, she had always made time for Fleur. 

The Veela thanked her lucky stars that Pansy had not been Hermione’s true love. She had been too happy to see the Slytherin go, especially when it led to her one night of passion with the Gryffindor. They had made love late into the night. Their bodies pulsing together in a dance of their own, leaving them hot, sweaty, and coated in a mixture of their juices. The magic they had used, the spells they had tried on one another were things Fleur had never done with another. Unfortunately, it could last no more than a night with both so recently out of relationships, nothing could come of it. 

A year and a half later, Fleur was still trying the single life. Not that it was going that well. She was practically vibrating with need. As both a Veela and an omega, her need for sexual release was something that could affect both her mental and physical health. Her maman had warned her that if she did not find a bed partner soon, her inner beast, the Harpy that lurked inside every Veela, might just come out.

Fleur shuddered at the thought. 

No, with any luck she wouldn’t have to wait more than a night to find such a partner. She had her sights trained on the Golden Girl. Fleur doubted she would recognize her in the newt mask. With so many magic users, including Veelas, around, the girl might not be able to place her scent right away.

It took two more dances for Fleur to finally make her move. She easily slid across the dance floor; her blue dress flowed like a river as she walked. Many eyes trailed her but none she was interested in. 

No, she had her eyes set on one omega tonight.

“Excusez-moi.” Her hand reached out, putting a physical barrier between Hermione and the alpha woman attempting to dance with her. “I ‘ave not been able to take my eyes off of you all night. Would you mind dancing wiz me?”

Hermione would normally roll her eyes, but she found herself blushing instead. Perhaps it was the fact that the mystery blonde was saving her from having to dance with Dolores Umbridge’s cousin, but in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to dance with the stranger. “Yes, um, if you’ll excuse me, Frances.”

The two omegas allowed the easy music to guide them across the floor and away from the fuming Frances Umbridge. 

“You look very, very good tonight, ma belle,” Fleur whispered. Her lips far too close to Hermione’s ear. 

The Gryffindor shivered and turned her head, forcing her savior to pull her head back slightly. “Thank you for saving me. This night has been…”

“I know. You would zink ze French ministry would ‘ave better dancers, non?”

Hermione chuckled. “You seem to know what you are doing.”

“I am an exception.”

For a second a look of recognition started to show in the muggleborn’s eyes, but it came as quickly as it was gone. Whatever she thought she had figured out flew from her head with the dip Fleur eased her into. Something about this woman -an omega if the lack of bulge when she pressed against Hermione could be believed- seemed so familiar. 

“Excuse me, but do I know you from somewhere?”

“A witch like you, I am sure you meet people all ze time.”

“No, I think I might really know you.”

Fleur smiled; her mask magically mimicked the expression. “I believe if you did, it would be more fun to let your mind work it out for itself, ‘ermione.”

Hermione’s eyebrows scrunched. She did like a puzzle, but she also did not like to be teased. It was already a frustrating night for her. She hadn’t even wanted to come. If bloody Kingsley was doing his job as Minister, she could’ve been home drinking tea and petting Crookshanks. 

“Perhaps, I simply do not want to know who you are,” the younger girl stubbornly challenged. 

Fleur laughed, a melodic sound that had several eyes staring in her direction. “Oh, ma belle. You do not fool me.”

Hermione chose not to say anything back. Her face was a pout even as her mind turned over the different possibilities. She knew so many people nowadays, even in the French Ministry of Magic. Though, for some reason, she doubted this was how she knew the stunning woman twirling her across the dance floor. 

It was as the next song turned slow and Fleur’s hand came around her waist that she finally knew. “Fleur!”

The Veela smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Hermione blushed but her mask did not show it. “You aren’t even supposed to be in France! Weren’t you doing some South American curse breaking for the Ministry when you wrote last?”

“‘Tis true. I just got back, and my grand-mere insisted I attend on behalf of ze Veela community.”

Hermione could not stop herself from hugging her dance partner close. She had missed the French witch so much. It had been lonely with just the Weasleys and Harry to keep her company. She missed the woman so much since she had moved out. She tried to tell herself this was because she missed living with someone, but she knew it was the specific person and not just anyone’s company she longed for. 

“‘Ow did you figure out it was me?”

The muggleborn voice dropped an octave. “Your hand around my waist. You think I’d forget...that night.”

Fleur purred. It appeared as though she did not need to be a predator on the hunt. “Perhaps it does not need to be just zat night, ‘mmm?”

Hermione’s wand waved in the air as she cast a disillusionment charm around them. She really did not want someone to interrupt them to either ask for yet another dance or thank her for her service. She looked deeply into the Veela’s eyes. It was the only part of her face that was recognizable. “Are you suggesting we go back to yours because if I remember you are currently living with your parents and my place is far too tiring to apparate to if we were going to do that.”

The newt mask smirked at Hermione. “Who says we ‘ave to go anywhere out of ze ministry to ‘ave sex?”

The Golden Girl’s trademark ‘you’ve got to be mental’ glare took over her masked face. “I am not having sex in public. Plus, I am on my period.”

“As if that matters, and I know ‘ow good you are at warding spells and ze bathroom is right over zere.” Fleur nodded to a door off to the side. It was one of many bathrooms. That one in particular just happened to be towards the back and in a dark corner of the main ballroom. “I imagine we could relive old times.”

“Or we could simply wait.”

“Alas, I am only ‘ere a night before I am off to Romania.”

“We really shouldn’t.” Hermione wasn’t one to take risks. After the war, she had led a pretty boring life. Paperwork and photo-ops at new Ministry events. It was altogether a dull existence. 

Fleur was ready for her refusal. “Tell me? ‘ave you touched yourself zinking of me since zat night?”

Hermione's mouth dropped open. “I..I…”

“I zink you ‘ave. I zink you zink of me at night, rubbing you little clit furiously trying to replicate what my tongue did to you. Imagine what it could do again. Would you like zat? Would you let me lick you zrough your panties?”

Hermione chewed her lip, something she did often when she was thinking. Fleur would normally have swooned, but the mask did not translate well the full adorableness of the action. “We really shouldn’t. I mean it’s not a good idea.”

“‘Ow about you let me convince you?” the French witch whispered. 

Hermione raised one eyebrow. The motion looked silly on her lion mask, but Fleur did not comment. Instead she whispered some words in French that Hermione did not know as she waved her hand slightly. 

“Are you doing magic?” Hermione hissed.

“Do you trust me?”

The Gryffindor glared but nodded.

“Good, just relax and feel.” Fleur’s lips went to Hermione’s neck. It was enough to cause the young woman to gasp, but it was not what caused the slight moan to escape her lips. 

Fleur’s lips may have been trailing the curve of her neck, but the sensations were not there alone. She could also feel them, ever so lightly, teasing her clit. The invisible sensation felt so real. With every kiss, suck, and nip, the feeling was mimicked down below. 

Hermione closed her eyes and let the sensations take her. Her body wanted Fleur. She had not had sex in so long, especially with another omega. They were so much softer than alphas. They knew the spots to hit that made her sigh, especially Fleur. The Veela had known her body better than any of her lovers. Would it be so bad to let go just this once? She was attracted to Fleur, who wasn’t? And wasn’t this what George Weasley had been telling her to do just the other day? Let go and live a little.

It was when Fleur’s tongue was tracing her scent gland that her knees finally began to buckle. Finally, she cleared her throat and backed away from her dance partner. Her cheeks were flushed. Luckily, the disillusionment charm held up and any eye that strayed to them only saw an empty spot on the dance floor. “Alright, let’s go.”

Fleur’s eyebrows, challenge clear in her eyes. “Are you sure I cannot convince you more?”

“The boys do not get to have a monopoly on bad ideas.”

“‘ey! Zis is not a bad idea.”

“You’re right because unlike them, I have enough knowledge of magic to keep everyone away from that bathroom for the rest of the night.”

“Ze rest of ze night?”

“Oh, don’t act surprised? I remember just how insatiable you are.”

* * *

Fleur kissed the smooth column of Hermione’s neck as the witch worked on her wards. Each soft kiss only served to stoke the blaze of need already burning in Gryffindor. 

Hermione could barely concentrate. It did not help that the French witch hands were delicately tweaking her nipples through her dress. 

“You are amazing, ‘ermione.”

With the mask off, there was no hiding her blush. “Thank you.”

“I mean it. You do such complex magic as if you were floating a feather.” Fleur let her tongue trail over Hermione’s scent gland. She was no longer performing magic on the girl, but it was still a particularly sensitive spot on the other omega. 

“Stop distracting me.” Even as she said this, she leaned more heavily into the woman behind her. She enjoyed the feel of Fleur’s hard nipples pressing into her back. The Veela had obviously forgone a bra tonight. 

“I zink you like it, ma belle.” Fleur’s lips trailed down coming to the junction of the other girl’s shoulder. There she stopped, sucking and nipping at the smooth flesh. 

Hermione moved away, having finally finished her wards. “Hey no marks!”

“As if you will have another after me,” the French witch snarked. She stalked closer to the shorter woman. Her eyes had gone from steel blue to being tinged with yellow. It was just like it had been before. Her Veela, the prideful Harpy that lived inside her chest, was coming out. It was possessive yet sweet, and it already thought of Hermione as hers. “You are mine!”

Hermione swallowed. If she wasn’t on her period and didn’t have a tampon in, she was sure her panties would be soaked at that comment. She had always enjoyed this side of the Veela’s behavior. “Prove it then.”

Fleur pounced forward, slamming Hermione’s back against the tiled wall. Her tongue plundered the younger girl’s mouth, easily establishing dominance. While one hand delicately carded through Hermione’s hair, the other was busy trailing up the slit in the Gryffindor’s dress. It was perfect for what she had planned. 

“I can smell ‘ow much you want me,” the older witch husked, nipping at Hermione’s bottom lip. “Tell me ‘ermione, do you want me?”

“Yes. God a thousand times yes.”

Fleur watched the other woman’s eyes widen as she sunk to her knees,

“What are you doing? You don’t have to...I mean I’m on my period.” Hermione blushed. She had always refrained from this sort of activity during that time of the month. She would be more than happy to just pleasure the French witch and let her turn wait for another time. 

“Darling, let me worry about zat,” Fleur whispered as she kissed the milky skin of the other witch’s exposed thigh. “I will not go under your panties. I promise.”

Fleur’s nose came forward, sniffing the other omega. She smelled exactly like she remembered but richer. Slowly she let the tip of her nose nuzzle the soft spot where she knew Hermione’s clit was. Hermione immediately jerked, her hand’s going into Fleur’s hair as much to stabilize herself as to keep the French witch there. Even with the barrier her sensitive pussy could feel so much.

“I...I didn’t think I’d be so sensitive.”

Fleur did not reply, only smirked and blew hot breath on the thin fabric of her panties. This earned her a sharp tug on her hair. Hermione had obviously enjoyed that, but it was nothing compared to when her mouth finally met lace. 

“Fuck.”

Fleur’s tongue gave an exploratory lick. It was not the same as when she had eaten the other omega before. Normally it was slippery, wet, and soft. Instead she had to contend with the rough fabric. Still, she wasn’t going to complain with the way Hermione was holding her head in place and moaning. 

Even if it was not the same for the Veela, the other girl was obviously enjoying it. 

“Oh, oh my, Fleur.”

The Veela growled, enjoying the girl crying out her name. With one hand, she reached up to massage her lover’s breasts. All the while her tongue never lost rhythm. She circled around and around Hermione’s straining clit. The lacy fabric only added to the sensations she was feeling 

“Fuck, yes. Right there.”

Fleur changed from licking to sucking and back again. It drove the muggleborn wild. Before long, she could not hold back any longer. With one hand bracing herself and the other gripping tightly to Fleur’s hair, she came. Her scream over release reverberated off the walls. 

The French witch did not stop though. No, she was going to go all night even if she couldn’t move her jaw in the morning. Instead of licking though, she blew cool air on the wet spot she had created on the fabric. It made Hermione squirm and her moved hips. 

Fleur’s tongue started flicking her clit. Over and over again like a guitarist strumming a string on his guitar. The warmth of her mouth, the sweet way her teeth nibbled at the tiny bud. It was all too much. Hermione cried out again. She rode her orgasm with eyes slammed shut. “Fuck...Fuck..I..I don’t know if I can-”

“You can,” the French witch growled, interrupting her lover. “You will come on my tongue until you can no longer ‘old yourself up.”

Hermione could only moan in response. How could she say no to a statement like that?


End file.
